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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146029">the damning desires of the devil and his advocates</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterMan/pseuds/MisterMan'>MisterMan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dimension Travel, Multi, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:55:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterMan/pseuds/MisterMan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Murdock deserves to be happy. Even the universe knows this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kirsten McDuffie/Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the damning desires of the devil and his advocates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807839">If the Ring Fits</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaicarus/pseuds/Shaicarus">Shaicarus</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based off another fic <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807839">If the Ring Fits</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaicarus/pseuds/Shaicarus">Shaicarus</a> which was just absolutely amazing! It was a blast to read and as I was rereading some of my bookmarked fics I found it again and was inspired to explore a similar setting, with Matt Murdock instead!<br/>I've been working on this since July and I'm not exactly happy with it but I am proud, in a way. It's the longest thing I've written in a long while. My writing groove is slowly coming back.<br/>It definitely feels rushed and choppy, though. I tried to make things smoother but I feel like I'll never publish it if I keep looking at this and fixing it and editing it and then my hard work will be for naught so - please enjoy!<br/>(P.S. While I did edit this I'm also very exhausted and basically half-asleep so beware: there are probably mistakes. Sorry!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Ring of Rings, the Fist’s Ring, the Desired Ring. It had many names but only one use.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only the Immortal Iron Fist is to use it,” Danny had explained. “For - wishes, you could say. It’s ancient but it’s been lost for years - until now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So it grants wishes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or desires, hopes, aspirations. And it didn’t grant them. It - it’s hard to explain. Only the Immortal Iron Fist is recognized by the ring so only he may wear it and therefore - only he will understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The ring gifts knowledge to him about - other worlds, you might say. And the Iron Fist is supposed to consider those worlds. Not live in them, or want them, or not want them. Just... know of them. They guide him, in a way. The ring is supposed to help him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happens if someone else wears it?” Jessica had asked. Danny shrugged and they left it at that, and they’d gone into that building with fists ready. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been surprisingly easy to take. The Hand were few in numbers after the events of Midland Circle, or they at least avoided Hell’s Kitchen now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For now.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Danny was knocked out - a lucky hit from one Hand - so Matt did the honors while Luke and Jessica fought over who would carry Danny back. It was in a glass case and Matt knocked the lid off, instantly tasting the steel from the band. He picked it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk home was awkward. Jessica didn’t have any problems carrying Danny but she had people to stalk and Matt had clients to, hopefully, defend. Even a paying client, Foggy couldn’t just reschedule that one. And Luke was free and Luke had Claire and Claire was a nurse so, Matt had guiltily explained he couldn’t be of any more help tonight but that he’d gladly watch the ring because, after pretending to be dead for several months and not telling them until the firm had reopened, he owed them that much. Jessica didn’t wait to hear his excuses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Matt went home. He stripped the black suit off himself and tossed it aside to be washed later. It landed at the foot of his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the ring. Matt had simply planned to set it in his nightstand drawer but he didn’t know if the Hand - whatever was left of them - would come after it. If they knew Matt had taken it. So the best idea was to keep it on his person. The ring was wide and only fit around his thumb. Even then, it slid around easily but Matt’s thumb knuckle was thick enough to keep it on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laid down on his bed, twisting the ring around absentmindedly. The metal is frozen to the touch despite the heat from Matt’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I happy? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he asks himself, feeling foolish for even thinking it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Matt would consider himself happy. But he’s guilty, too. He hurt his friends; Foggy doubts him more than he ever did now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wants to say he is happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has Foggy back after all, even after Matt's actions, and Karen works with them at their little firm in the back of Nelson’s Meats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he has a team now. Foggy admitted he worries less when Jessica and Luke have his back with their strength and Luke’s bulletproofness, when Danny is there with - whatever mystical powers he’s got. And Matt visits Maggie weekly and slowly, they’re building something together and it might even resemble a mother-son relationship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the guilt weighs down on him anyway, heavy like steel. He lied and he hurt and he failed many people. He wasn't good enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So many other innocents paid the price for his mistakes. What right did Matt have to be happy when everyone else had no chance at it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What do you want?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to try again. He wants a second chance. He wants to have never made those mistakes. He wants their pain that he wishes he could have prevented. He wants to be what they want him to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, Matt’s tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes slip closed against his will and as his hands fall limp the ring catches his thumb knuckle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wakes up with Claire’s hands cleaning a wound in his chest. It’s deep and bloody, dirt and glass burrowed deep into him. It hurts, no matter how gently she tries to be. His chest hurts so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It hurts,” Matt grits out. “I tried. I wasn’t good enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t know why he said that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire doesn’t say anything at first. She digs out a glass shard, then a clump of dirt, then a bullet. Matt cries out and tries to move but Claire doesn’t let him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re wrong,” she says. “You don’t understand but you will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt passes out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wakes up in a different position. He’s curled up under the blankets and the suit if gone. He must have kicked it off the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s really tired. Matt forces himself up, though, and he takes a shower and he puts on a suit, a new suit he doesn’t remember getting. Karen must have bought it when Matt was gone because he can still smell the tailor it came from - the one Matt likes because he understands, to an extent, what Matt means when he says he’s “sensitive” and needs softer material inside the suit. He grabs his cane, his glasses, wallet and briefcase and heads out for the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He makes it to Nelson’s Meats in record time - Foggy’ll be happy. The door jingles open and Theo greets Matt from the back. “Hey, Matt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he says with a wave Theo is too busy to see. He walks around to where their makeshift office is, and runs his fingers over the paper sign. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nelson, Murdock, &amp; Page.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nelson and Page are in already but they’ve just arrived it sounds like. Their hearts pick up when Matt walks in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, well, well,” Foggy says. “Look who’s on time for once!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does that mean we actually have to be open in the morning now?” Karen asks in mock disappointment but she’s smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Figured I didn’t want to make the sign out to be a liar,” Matt says and then he shrugs. “Plus, I slept well last night. Didn’t, ah, stay out so late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy shakes his head and - Matt tilts his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is your hair longer?” Matt asks before he can stop himself. Foggy stops mid sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no? God, you sound like Marci. She keeps saying I should cut it. Should I cut it?” he asks them but Matt’s not paying attention because Foggy’s hair </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> longer. He can hear it swishing when he moves his head. It’s back at the length it had been when they had first opened Nelson &amp; Murdock, like he’d never even cut it after the firm dissolved and he’d become a big-shot lawyer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, maybe he’d grown it out. It has been months, hasn’t it? And just recently did Foggy stop slicking his hair back with that gel Matt could smell a mile away, which has been easier on his nose, and actually start letting it rest naturally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A walk-in comes through their door with a complimentary sandwich so Matt doesn’t push the topic. And then he forgets to push it because Matt’s paying client walks through the door and he can’t mess this up when Foggy and Karen’s trust in him is still so fragile. And then he just doesn’t push it because why does it matter? It’s just hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s because of me,” Foggy boasts. “I used to be a partner with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogarth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s only natural some of my clients would follow me here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Karen can’t stop the snort that escapes her. “So you didn’t spend the entire time defending corporate assholes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Low blow, Page, </span>
  <em>
    <span>low blow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ll have you know that I helped </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luke Cage - ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”That all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what, I don’t have to take this abuse. I can fire you - ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might be the sandwiches, actually,” Matt says. Foggy slumps back into the chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, he’s right. They’re only here for the sandwiches.” and then Karen’s laughing, and Matt’s laughing with her, and Foggy joins. It’s like the past couple years never happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day ends with a whisper; Matt doesn’t go out that night. He walks into his apartment at six pm and changes into sweats and a t-shirt instead, and rather than get his ass kicked for the hundredth time this month, he opens his laptop and connects his screen reader. He runs his fingers over the braille display.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only then does Matt remember the ring on his thumb. He startles at the pressure, at the scent of silver making itself known, and thinks of calling. It’s been almost a full day since he got the ring and Danny never called. Should he call? The hit was harsh and it bled certainly but Matt is sure he would have gotten a call from Luke or Claire if something was wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes. He should call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then he thinks of getting up. His phone is on the other end of the coffee table and, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> haven’t called. Matt sits back against the back of the couch, suddenly exhausted, and he falls asleep instantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Matt wakes up next, he’s submerged in a tub of blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blood floods his mouth when he tries to scream, drowning him, but when he tries to get out, stone stops him. The stone lid is heavy and Matt doesn’t have the leverage to push it off -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lid falls finally when Matt tucks his fingers under a gap and he tumbles out, and - God, the blood is all over him and it’s soaked into the only piece of clothing he’s wearing now; a pair of briefs made up of rough fabric that scratches his skin. He tries to understand what’s going on around him but blood clogs his ears, his nose, and all he can taste is the metallic fluid, and he gags and gags and nothing comes up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you’re afraid,” someone says - a woman. Matt’s panting loudly. “But that will pass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words Matt wants to say get stuck in his throat. They come out as whimpers, half formed, aborted sounds that sound pathetic. He screams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So will the pain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The floor is still slick with blood. Matt can’t get a grip and slips as he tries to crawl away. The woman is hovering near him and behind her, Matt can hear the sound of heartbeats and the strain of tense muscles. He hears the click of heels and when the woman is a mere few feet away, Matt lunges for her with a clumsy fist that misses by a mile but the heartbeats pick up nonetheless and the sound of steel - </span>
  <em>
    <span>steel katanas</span>
  </em>
  <span> - slice the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stand down,” the woman shifts and they stop advancing on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” she says when Matt makes another attempt to strike her. He misses and she hadn’t even moved. “It’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt falls still. He’s disoriented. “Wh...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where am I?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wants to ask. His voice is still breaking and words still fail him but the woman seems to understand what he’s trying to ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is your home now,” her voice is soft and kind, but Matt wants to lash out at her anyway. “We are your family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she says that, her voice suddenly becomes more clear and blood dribbles from his ears, loose now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” he gasps out. “You.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman mistakes his anger for fear, for suspicion of a stranger rather than hatred for a person he knows, knew. “I have waited so long to meet you,” Alexandra Reid says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt can’t control himself. He snarls and grasps for her, grasps for her hair, for her shirt, for her leg when she steps back. He makes it beyond the blood puddle onto dry concrete and the friction allows him to stand on shaky, weak legs and land a hit on her. She dodges the second fist, and pushes the third off course. When he stumbles to the side, Alexandra twists his arm behind his back and kicks his knees out from under him. The concrete scrapes his knees and this time it’s his own blood that taints his nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God. Was this what Elektra had felt, this drowning fear, the overwhelming confusion, and the scattered anger? Had she tried to fight like this when she woke up? Did Alexandra Reid win that time too?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shushes him. Matt only then hears his own sobs. “You will need your strength.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alexandra holds him with a painful grip in a vulnerable position and rocks him gently, side to side as if to soothe him, and despite himself, Matt falls still and exhaustion consumes him. She speaks but Matt doesn’t hear what she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gasps awake this time. He’s not covered in blood. He doesn’t smell it, doesn’t feel the slick of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s in his apartment, in his bed and not the couch. And - the ring. Matt sits up and fingers his thumb, and there it is. The ring is tight around the base of his thumb and it’s too tight to fit around the swell of his knuckle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” he pulls at it. “Fuck. Fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt?” Foggy says from besides him. Matt startles and scans for injuries from either of them but doesn’t smell blood or rubbing alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” is all he can get out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The city wake you up, again?” Foggy’s voice is groggy, but deep in a pleasant way. And isn’t that a new thought for Matt, who’s certainly felt the stirrings of attraction for men, though most were never his type and none ever made it beyond the typical one night stands Matt was known for, and Foggy - Foggy had not been someone he was very interested in enough to risk their roommate status, then their friendship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Matt says again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Foggy grunts when he gets up and the floorboards creak as he walks towards the dresser. He digs around, pushing aside socks and - Matt can’t stop his face from heating slightly when Foggy sets aside a pair of boxers. He comes back with something plastic; Matt can hear the object scratching against the fabric of Foggy’s t-shirt and then the stretch as Foggy pulls it in opposite directions and puts it onto Matt’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The headphones are larger than any pair Matt’s come across, and heavier he finds when Foggy lets go. But the world is silenced as soon as the ear cushions snap against his ears. He hears - nothing. Not the cars or the sirens or the people. Foggy’s heartbeat vanishes and Matt is unsettled to find his own is difficult to find as well. He goes to yank off the headphones but Foggy’s hands cover his own, gently, more gentle than he feels he deserves, and that is enough to stop him. The world has never been so still. It scares him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t - “ Matt begins to say but the absence of his voice startles him into silence again. The only reason he knows Foggy replies to that is the feel. He feels the vibrations from the air, feels them through the movements of Foggy’s hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t like it. The world on fire shifts into a world under water but it reminds him of the last time he went deaf. He had felt truly helpless, and as much as he trusts Foggy, he doesn’t want that now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s muscles tense involuntarily when he tries to shift away from Foggy but he's followed, hands still covering his own. And Matt loathes to hurt Foggy, so he lays down when the hands prompt him to, keeps on the headphones even as the hands leave him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He falls asleep quickly, quicker than he ever has.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he wakes to the sun in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Matt doesn’t think much of it. He’s on his side and the sun shines brightly and so Matt rolls over onto his other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries to go back to sleep, when he remembers he doesn’t usually worry about the light waking him up. He got his apartment so cheap for a reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt cautiously opens his eyes and the world comes into focus, when it shouldn’t. He sees the sun, when all he should know is the warmth. His heart is surely pounding but he can’t hear it, can only feel it’s force. It’s - painful. He lays on cotton sheets and he can see the pattern, it’s... shapes. Abstract shapes. He goes to run his fingers over it by habit but can’t feel the stitches, just a smooth surface. He guesses they’re... blue. Or green. And on the white wall opposite of him, there’s a painting with so many colors, it hurts to look at. He closes his eyes and sits up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands slowly, flinches when he sees the sun shine against his eyelids, and walks forward, slowly and with arms stretched forward in a way he hasn’t had to do since he was nine. The room is unfamiliar as it’s not the same apartment he had before because the door is slimmer than his actual door and is closer, he thinks from the brief look he managed to take, and the floor is carpet instead wood panelling. In the end, he makes it only five steps from his bed when the phone vibrates on the nightstand just behind him. He must make quite the sight, grasping for it and trying not to knock everything down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s humbling when he finally finds it and yanks it up, only for the charger to follow. He rubs his shin as he tries to remember which letters were which. O, he remembers quickly enough. Only really remembers them because of the sign Nelson &amp; Murdock had after Fisk, before the end of the firm. The one Foggy had thrown away twice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>G, that follows quickly. Remembers the outline from the napkin and the paper that hangs on Nelson, Murdock, &amp; Page’s door. Ogg is enough to guess Foggy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment of panic where he didn’t know how to answer (before remembering he swipes to answer his smartphone, why would being sighted be any different, right?), he greets Foggy with a shaky ‘hello?’ that sounds unconvincing, even to Matt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey bud, you good?” Foggy sounds the same as always. “Look, just wanted to let you know the meeting with Landman got canceled, so don’t bother getting ready. Or do, I guess. Because the Todds’ have a nine o’ clock scheduled, then your pro bono meeting with, uh- Parker is after that. And- you get it. You’re busy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t answer, though Foggy doesn’t seem to notice. “And Kirsten wanted to ask you something so expect a call from her later. Meanwhile, I -” Foggy’s side crinkles. “- will be eating your breakfast burrito unless you stop me by getting your ass in on time for once.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a pause when Matt fails to answer. “Uh, Matt? You good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt clears his throat and hopes he doesn’t sound as panicked to Foggy as he does to himself. Maybe he’ll assume he’s sick - which must be true because this has to be some weird fever dream. “I, I can’t make it today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Why? Dude, you already cancelled on the Todds’ before, they won’t be happy about this. And they’re the paying clients! Parker won’t matter in the long run, not like Todd and his wretched wife. They’ll, I don’t know, leave a scathing Google review or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m uh, sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sick?” Foggy is quiet for a moment and when he speaks next, he’s whispering. “Like, actually sick? Or just ‘sick’? The second sick has quotations, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gathered as much,” Matt says dryly. “Actually sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy sighs. “Of course. The one time you’re sober, you get actual sick. Fuck, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt honestly doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Foggy sighs again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll - do something with the Todds. Maybe say you got held up in another meeting or whatever. Parker won’t put up a fuss, luckily.” Matt hears the shuffling of papers on the other side. “Where did you put the Todds’ file?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. Okay, go rest or something and I’ll ranshack your office for them. What’s your computer’s password again? I lost the post-it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t even try with that one. Foggy huffs. “Wow, you must really be sick. Go, man, I’ll manage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Matt mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I said I’ll manage,” Foggy sounds more sure the second round, and maybe a bit surprised. “Feel better, alright? I’ll call if I need anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt lays back down when Foggy hangs up, eyes still shut tightly. He feels overwhelmed. A headache is forming and the sun isn’t helping, so he pulls his blanket over his head and it’s almost like being blind again - as long as he keeps squeezing his eyes shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how long he lays there, paralyzed by the headache, when the phone vibrates again. Matt doesn’t bother looking at the Caller I.D., just swipes up on the left side of his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Foggy?” he grunts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person coughs on the other side of the phone. “Hey, Matty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s heart stops. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack Murdock continues. “I know you said you were busy but I, ah, I. The boys and I are heading to the bar later this week. Fogwell said he missed Mini Murdock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I -” Matt clamps his hand over his mouth to stop the whimpers. It doesn’t stop the tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’ll understand it if you can’t make it,” Jack says in a rush. “I know you’re busy all the time, being a lawyer and all. Can’t blame you, can I?” Jack laughs in a depreciative way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is a dream, it must be, but Matt's breath catches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad,” Matt gasps out. “Oh my God, dad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matty? Baby,” his dad sounds concerned and it hurts to hear after decades of not. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he can get out is another ‘dad’ before the sobs punch their way out his throat and then he can’t stop it after that. He’s crying and gasping and his dad is comforting him like he used to and that just makes it all the harder to stop. Matt knows this is some weird dream but this is his dad’s voice, just like he remembers but clearer than it’s been in years - like he never forgot the deep of it, or the way his mouth shaped his words, or his cadence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sh, Matty, it’s okay,” Jack is saying. Matt takes a deep shuddering breath as the memory talks. “What’s wrong? What’s this about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That almost starts Matt up again. “I, I miss you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dream-Jack sighs. “Oh, baby. I’m always here for you, you know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not there, he hasn’t been there for years. “I’m sorry.” he says because he could have been there all these years. He’d been angry at Jack Murdock for valuing victory over years with his son but he knows now that all he wanted for Matt was for him to be happy, and proud of him. Ray Nadeem wasn’t so different from Jack Murdock, and he shared the same fate in the end. One bullet for their troubles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Son, you have nothing to be sorry for,” and doesn’t he? The guilt had eaten at him for years and it never really stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean -” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t mean to get you killed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t mean what? Matty, you gotta listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been a busy man, I understand that, but none of that is your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt shakes his head and chokes out, “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry, dad, I don’t know why I said it. I regret it everyday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His father doesn’t speak right away, not until Matt takes several more unsteady breathes. “Matt. Matty, are you okay? Did you... get involved in anything? Are you in danger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt laughs sharply. “God, what didn’t I do? I’m fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack hesitates. “Matt, are you in... legal trouble?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet,” because his identity won’t be safe forever. The threat of Fisk is ever lingering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What. What did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hurt people. I almost killed a man.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Jack asks and the disappointment in his voice is loud. Matt always knew his father would be disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you weren’t there. You’re dead,” he says honestly. Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time, but he sighs and when he speaks next, he sounds resigned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re using again, aren’t you?” Matt doesn’t reply. He doesn’t understand the question. Jack takes that as an answer. “Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t -” Matt tries but doesn’t get to continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Son, I thought you - I thought you got help. What happened?” Jack asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not high,” Matt says. Jack laughs bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, kid. Look. Call that partner of yours. Smoggy, or whatever. If we’re gonna reconcile, I’d rather you be sober for that and I sure as hell know you won’t let me help you with that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he hangs up. Matt squints at his phone, tries to navigate to his contacts but the lights and the colors just worsen his already debilitating headache, so he gives up. He groans and burrows deeper into the blanket. Matt really doesn’t get this dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, dad,” Matt whispers. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The headache intensifies and sleep comes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt is on a roof. The air is warm, so the sun is out. He doesn’t remember getting here. He’s in the Daredevil suit and he can hear metal several yards away, and the breathing of a man. It’s... Castle? The Punisher is loading his gun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not getting it,” Castle says, then cocks the gun. “But you will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s aiming it towards - Matt jumps back but he’s too late and the bullet pierces his throat -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt jerks awake. He rubs his throat but the skin - it’s intact and not slick with his blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took you long enough,” the man says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Matt asks - and it feels pointless. He doesn’t know what’s happening. Is this another dream? The cool air feels so real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got knocked out,” the man is standing a few feet away, at the edge of the roof they’re on. “I think he left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who - ?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” the man says but - he’s lying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Matt asks. He’s still rubbing his neck to distract from the phantom pain of a bullet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” the man runs to his side and kneels. “Did he hurt your neck? Dude, lay down. He really did a number on your head, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt tries to stay seated but the man - he’s stronger than he seems. He pushes Matt down effortlessly and, well, might as well stay down at that point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Matt repeats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s, uh - Spider-Man,” Spider-Man says as he checks Matt for any other major bruises. Matt has to think about that one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you were younger,” Matt grunts. “Since when do I know Spider-Man? What are you doing out of Queens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Queens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you based in Queens?” Keeping track of all these news faces is getting difficult as more and more pop up, but Spider-Man was one of the more well known vigilantes and the news frequently talked of his work in Queens - and they even had sound clips sometimes. His voice was higher, or was supposed to be higher than it is now. Unless - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ring. God, the ring, how had he forgotten? The steel is impossible to miss. “What year is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“2018.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That rules out time travel. Matt frowns and tries to remember what Danny had said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, lay down,” Spider-Man says. “Alright, I’m calling M- uh, a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The ring,” is all Matt can say. His gloves are on and - the material is different. It feels thinner, more flimsy. Maybe that’s why the steel is suffocating him even through the fabric. He pulls off the glove and tries to twist the ring off but it doesn’t budge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spider-Man is older, isn’t in Queens, and Matt’s wearing what feels like spandex. What had Danny said? Matt can’t remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries to struggle out of Spider-Man’s grip but he’s strong. Matt’s more experienced, though. He flips Spider-Man to the side and rolls to his hands and knees. He stumbles up to his feet and makes it about three feet away before there’s a wire attached to his waist and then there’s pain and -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Matt next wakes up, he goes right for the ring on his thumb. It’s as tight as it was before but he doesn’t stop, even when hands pull at his. He is desperate to get this thing off. “Matthew,” Elektra pleads. “We have to go, they’re coming - “ and that jerks Matt out of the fit but not soon enough, he knows, when Elektra shouts and he hears the arch of a sword - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s a man at Matt’s side. He’s taller than him but only slightly and he says, “Kill her.” so Matt does - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt is slammed into the wall and he hears the crack of his spine - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jumps and misses the roof by an inch - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy doesn’t show up that night - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dex doesn’t miss - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt messes up again and again - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t get it,” Fisk says as he holds Matt by the throat up against the wall. “How obvious must I make it?” Then he slams Matt’s head into the brick wall as Matt struggles and shouts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop!” and Claire stops. Her hands pull back as if burned and Matt flinches further from her touch, then tries to calm down enough so he can get a reading of the room around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mike?” she asks tentatively. Matt smells the scent of cat litter, then smells the cat seconds later. He smells antiseptic in the air, and Claire’s lotion, drowned out mostly by the scent of Matt’s own blood. There’s not much but the smell is thick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt grasps for the ring again. The steel becomes known then and he chokes on the sudden power behind the taste, the smell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mike, hey, what's up?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The ring," he says, still pulling and twisting. Claire carefully grabs his wrist and looks at his thumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's on tight," she says. "What is it?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't take it off," he says as a way of explanation. "I think this is what Danny meant when he said only he could wear it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Who?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't get it off," Matt is almost yelling and Claire's heartbeat picks up slightly and sweat pools on the surface of her skin. She gets up and grabs a bottle - the strong aroma of alcohol follows - and when she returns to the couch, she pours alcohol onto the thumb and the ring. She twists, tries more like, then tries to swivel and rotate it but it doesn't budge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What - is this?" she grunts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A magic ring," Matt says. She slumps back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, what?" she's frustrated. "Wanna tell me why you're wearing a magic ring? And why it won't come off?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Danny was supposed to do something with it but,” Matt shrugs. “He got knocked out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Danny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Matt says. “By the way, what year is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire runs her fingers through his hair, patting him and jerking his head this way and that way. “You didn’t tell me you have a concussion,” she’s angry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Matt says. He tries to shake her hands off. “Listen - just humor me. What year is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“2016,” she eventually says. Her heart beats painfully loud and her breath is hitching like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, even when Matt prolongs the silence to give her a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m,” Matt says, but starts again. “I think - God.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands are still threaded in his hair and the weight is a comfort to him. He leans into them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This ring is doing something. I don’t understand it. It - it shows me things that haven’t happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s showing you... the future?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. It shows me things that haven’t happened and that won’t happen. Because I’ve already lived through these events but the ring, it shows - I don’t know. It’s different from what actually happened," Matt tries to remember how Danny had phrased it but even then, the explanation hadn't been satisfying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Huh."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"By now, you should know my identity. Did the Russians take you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," she says. "Are they going to?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is the difference here, Matt realizes. If everything else is the same the Russians should not be a problem anymore. It's a relief to know Claire is safer here. That this Matt didn't fail to protect her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Matt tells her. "You - You're safe."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire doesn't say anything to that and Matt doesn't continue. She finishes dressing his wound - a cut from a dulling knife - and when the last corner is taped down, she sighs heavily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” she says. “How do you leave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tired of me already?” Matt can’t help himself sometimes. Claire laughs though because - they must not have the same history. That hurts, for some reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh. I actually don’t know,” Matt says. “I either fall asleep or, or die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart speeds up. “Well, let’s get you to sleep then. God knows you need the rest anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pushes him lightly until he’s laying on her couch and she drapes a fleece blanket over him. The fabric catches his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, it’s only a matter of letting his tired body fall into that exhaustion and he feels Claire’s hand through his hair when sleep takes him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he wakes, as if he were never asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he hadn't been. It's as jarring when he wakes up mid-action. One moment he's laying on Claire’s couch, the next he’s standing in the middle of a courtroom with the attention of a judge and the jury. It’s as awkward as one might suspect, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Murdock?” the judge asks. Matt does what he does best; he plays the part of the hapless blind man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head as if trying to clear it, then reaches a hand out in a way that gets heartbeats pumping. Then he stutters out an incomprehensible explanation and let’s his knees wobble, and Foggy is up in no time, taking his arm and leading him to an empty chair. He wonders if this Foggy knows about Daredevil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After postponement is offered and accepted, it’s only a matter of manipulating the answers out of people - Foggy, typically. Unfortunately. This Foggy may not have the same history with this Matt, but Matt - the real version, or the real as far as he is concerned - feels that guilt anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Foggy asks once they’re away from others. They’re at a bench and Matt is still playing up his nonexistent dizziness, one clenching the bench seat and the other holding his head. “Looking pretty pale there, bud.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doubts that. He doesn’t answer and listens to the world around him, instead. It seems this Matt still has his senses, but he wonders if he uses them the same way he does. The aches in his body - from scars and fractured bones alike - are absent. Instead he feels uncomfortably comfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t think any further on that. The conversation around them is dull and contains no real information about this world. He hears a woman talk to her lawyer and the jury of an unrelated case discussing a verdict. And beyond that, outside the building, he hears cars and more people talking about - professional and personal things. He strains to hear more but there’s nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he comes back to his body, Foggy is rubbing his shoulders. Matt hasn’t moved an inch in several minutes but Foggy doesn’t seem that much more worried than before and simply lets Matt seemingly come back to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt lets his arms relax. He sighs heavily and it only feels partly fake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Foggy asks him but doesn’t stop the shoulder rub. His heart has slowed down significantly, which bugs at Matt. “Was it your senses again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt jolts. “Uh. Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Figured. You looked a little pale this morning but thought that might just be you still getting over your flu.” This Foggy seems to talk just as much as his Foggy. Matt lets his words flow over him and it’s just as relaxing as it is at home. “Let’s go home. We’ll tell Karen to take a short day - it’s not like we have any clients to worry about. The joys of being small time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They take a taxi to Matt’s place. Matt tries again to listen for differences and Foggy doesn’t seem bothered at his lack of replies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only catches bits of conversations at red lights. A baby and their parents. A couple holding hands. A phone ringing. A car honking. And then he hears - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ - Wilson Fisk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt tries to hear more but the light turns green and cars are honking and a man is shouting. The voice is lost in the noise and then the taxi is moving and it’s gone for good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilson Fisk still exists here. And Matt still has his senses, but the question remains: is he Daredevil here too? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt tries not to let Foggy know something is on his mind, which is as hard in this universe as it is in his own. He pretends to listen; he nods and hums but when they get out of the taxi and get into Matt’s apartment, Matt opens his laptop and doesn’t bother pretending he hears what Foggy is saying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Getting back to work already?” Foggy asks. Matt hums and types in ‘Wilson Fisk’ into the search bar. In his earphones, the computer reads the text to him and it’s a lot of useless results. A Facebook page for one Wilson Jacobs. Some social media account for Wil Son. And a school email for Mark H. Wilson from Fisk University. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt adds ‘New York’ to the search. Wilson, a village in New York. James Fisk, a financier who died in 1872 in New York City, New York.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Wilson Fisk Manhattan’. The Wilson, a restaurant. Charles Fisk, a man who worked on the Manhattan project.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And finally, ‘Wilson Fisk Hell’s Kitchen’. Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t know what he expected. Why would Wilson Fisk be anymore reachable here then he was at home? Just like there, this Fisk desires the anonymity, and the protection it brings, and while he works tirelessly in the background, people in the foreground drop like flies and Matt - Matt feels so much more powerless than before. He can’t stop it. He can’t even find Wilson Fisk, couldn’t follow the voice through all the noise, something he should’ve been able to do at eleven years old. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least here, he has an excuse. Matt’s body feels light and painless. No aches and no heaviness. Not even the scars that Stick left behind hurt as if they weren’t even there. Stick was the difference here. No Stick means Matt never got in control of his powers, which means no Daredevil. Here, Matt Murdock is just Matt Murdock. Like Foggy always wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt jerks out of his musings. The words on the laptop repeat the same search results, even when phrased differently, searched or spelt in odd ways. Foggy is closer now, and his heartbeat is loud. Almost deafening. But still comforting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Matt says but doesn’t stop the typing, the desperate search for this man who’s capable of who knows what. When Matt leaves this world, what will Nelson &amp; Murdock do? What will Karen Page and Ben Ulrich do? Is Karen even alive right now? Who else will die?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to sleep. Work can happen later. I can practically see your brain frying right now,” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wishes he could stay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lays down on his bed after Foggy starts to sound more worried, and he worries. “Foggy,” Matt says and he fights against the exhaustion that threatens to pull him under and to a new world, another world that he might not be able to save.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, bud?” The world is fading in and out but Foggy is as solid as ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilson Fisk,” Matt says, and hopefully that’s enough because the world goes blank for a moment and the next - the world is back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow he’s still surprised by the new environment. You’d think he’d be used to the shifts but it only grows more jarring with each one. This time he aches all over - a stark difference from his previous body - and the stale air of the small, cramped room brings forward a familiar feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a person in the room with him seated on a chair just a foot away from the bed he’s laying on and he solidifies the feeling, the memories, and the mixed sense of dread and nostalgia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally chose to wake up, huh?” Stick says. Matt’s eyes sting. “Took you long enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt tries to think of a clever way to figure out where the hell he is and what’s happening but with Stick it’s harder. He knows all of Matt’s tricks - taught them to him, in fact - so all Matt can do is play along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stick,” he says. His voice is raspy and speaking, Matt finds, takes up a great deal of effort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened out there?” Stick demands, sounding more angry than Matt has ever heard him but under his voice there’s something different that he never heard in his - in the Stick from his world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Matt answers truthfully. He tries to sit up and isn’t able to move much at all. His body feels so tired and pained that even the whimper that escapes his throat hurts so he settles onto the bed and decides moving can wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” it lacks much snark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t reply. He tries to move again just to let the pain run through his body and to render his voice useless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You never listen, kid,” Stick says and the fondness in his voice isn’t hidden behind sneers and jabs. It hurts to hear. “Guess you finally met your match.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could never last long against you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers in painfully vivid detail each of his own failures and every strike, every insult Stick dealt him when he failed to succeed. He remembers their reunion decades after Stick abandoned him when he decided Matt wasn’t strong enough to be the soldier he wanted, needed, had hoped for, had been let down of. Even then, Matt still wasn’t good enough and the knowledge stings very much, even years after that encounter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Months after Stick’s death Matt had felt grief but hadn’t let himself mourn. Had wondered if he should mourn this man, if he deserved it. He still hasn’t found an answer for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stick laughs and it’s almost a nicer sound, but even here, his laugh hints on mocking. “Some more practice, Matty, and it won’t be long before you will. You’re a fast learner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I?” Matt asks, feeling every bit like his eleven-year-old self. The Stick he knew would never outright compliment him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, kid,” This Stick says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt allows himself to sigh. Stick pats his arm and it comforts him, like his Stick never could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go get Ellie,” Stick says and he gets up, and Matt is suddenly so tired. Even the idea of seeing Elektra again isn’t enough to keep him awake and for the first time, he doesn’t want to fall asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as Matt is at all aware of himself, he tries to pull the ring off. It doesn’t budge, as usual, and it even seems to tighten. Tears sting his eyes again and frustration builds in his throat. He wants out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's movement behind him and he realizes that this is the second time he's woken up next to someone in bed. This woman, though - he doesn't recognize her. Her smell and shape are both unfamiliar to him but when she rolls over to face his back, she seems familiar enough with him - or a version of him, this version - that she wraps an arm around his waist and presses herself against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Another nightmare?" she asks, reminiscent of that world with Foggy. And how impossible, he thinks, that there are versions of him that have told the truth, are telling the truth, that trust and are trusted in return. Someone, this someone, trusts him. He trusts her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah," he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s still reeling from his interaction with Stick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman squeezes him tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hm. Must have been bad if you're letting yourself tell me right away."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They're silent after that for so long Matt suspects she might have fallen back asleep. As he's contemplating whether he should get up and find out more about this world or go back to sleep himself, she speaks up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What was it about?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt grimaces. “It - it’s nothing. You can go back to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"C'mon, thought we were done with shutting loved ones out," she says like it's a joke. She doesn’t remove her arm. “You’re tense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knows him well. Matt finds this baffling and tries, unsuccessfully, to find something to say, some sort of excuse to avoid talking to her. He feels oddly guilty about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just - it was just a nightmare, I’ll feel better in the morning,” he eventually forces out. It sounds unconvincing even to himself, and the woman must not believe him because she doesn’t budge an inch from his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, talking might help,” she says. Matt doubts it. “Give it a shot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt stays silent. If he does leave the apartment he should bring his phone; it’ll give him a chance to do some proper research about this world. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why this ring is transporting him to different places to begin with. Danny didn’t say anything about this, Matt doesn’t think. But learning as much as he could might help him figure out how to get back to his world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman nudges him and Matt almost damns this other Matt and leaves the bedroom despite the rift it’ll surely cause between this Matt and the woman. Despite popular belief, he doesn’t actually hate himself that much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, he doesn’t. The woman pats his hip and scoots back and Matt rolls onto his back. “It’s okay, Matty. Whatever you’re feeling guilty about, it’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those words and the use of ‘Matty’ - it’s something only Stick, Foggy, and his father had called him. “Just - don’t freak out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman keeps her hand on him, a constant weight, and says again, “It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words come too easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not from this world. This ring is transporting me to different - worlds, I think,” Matt lifts his hand up where the ring on his thumb should be obvious to her. “It won’t come off. I don’t know why. And I don’t know how to get back to my - world. My home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman gently grasps his hand and tugs the ring. It doesn’t budge, as usual. Her heart is loud now, and faster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt,” she says and her voice shakes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know who you are,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything to that. The woman tries to tug off the ring again but it doesn’t make his words any less true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t think of a reason why you would lie about this,” she eventually says. She shushes Matt when he opens his mouth. “No, I mean - I don’t know what you could gain. So I don’t think you’re trying to gain anything. I believe you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughs and shifts away from Matt. “I mean. You work pretty regularly with Danny. Plus Thor exists, which - that should be proof enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait - we know Danny?” Matt asks because this is his first real lead in God knows how many dimensions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” the woman is sitting up now and reaching for her phone. “I - I can call. You said you didn’t know what was happening. He might.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt is nodding and fighting against the blankets to follow her up and out of the bed. He trips over the sheets and then over a pair of slippers that must be his. He forgoes them in favor of hearing Danny answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Kirsten,” Danny says, sounding very awake and slightly older than the Danny of his world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Danny,” the woman - Kirsten - says. “I need your help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Matt okay? I promise I sent him home hours ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s - well, we need your help. Matt and I. It’s... it’s magic.” Matt catches up to Kirsten in the kitchen and hovers just feet away, even though he’d hear the phone just fine wherever in the apartment. Kirsten grabs his hand and tries to get a good look at the ring but she must have forgotten to turn on a light. “It’s a ring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s made of steel,” Matt says. “And it won’t come off. It’s called - I think he said it was called the Fist’s Ring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt says it’s called the Fist’s Ring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I... don’t know that ring,” it sounds genuine but without the heartbeat, Matt is blind. “I can come over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, please,” Kirsten says when Matt nods. Excitement buzzes under his skin when Danny confirms that he’ll come over and he doesn’t take up Kirsten’s offer to take a seat, but does accept a cup of tea - something he doesn’t really drink, yet feels as though he might as well accept. This visit surely won’t last long. Either he goes home or gets sent to another world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paces back and forth in his - or, their? - living room. He bumps into a side table Matt doesn’t have in his actual apartment twice and jumps when Kirsten turns on a TV he hadn’t noticed and probably walks a path onto the wooden flooring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too long before he hears the sound of footsteps on the roof. He had expected Danny to come to the front door but hurries up the steps anyway, Kirsten following behind hesitantly. Danny opens the roof door just as Matt reaches for the door himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, man,” Danny says. “A magic ring, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you,” Matt says more genuinely than he’s ever meant anything when it comes to speaking to Danny. He wonders if that’s the case here too, with the way Danny’s heartbeat ticks up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s nice to be wanted,” Danny shrugs. “Alright, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny follows Matt down the stairs and Matt is the only one who stays standing. “I put on this ring and now I can’t take it off. It’s transporting me all over the place - or time, or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time travel?” Danny frowns. “I definitely haven’t heard of a ring that does that. And it’s meant for the Iron Fist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“According to you, yes,” Matt says. “As for the time travel, it’s more like... dimensions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny leans forward and Matt takes this as cue to elaborate. “I’ve awoken in worlds where - I’m not blind, where I don’t have superpowers, where my father is alive. I don’t even know Kirsten in my world - I’ve never met her. And the only way to leave one world is to fall asleep or, or die. And I’m transported to a brand new world, always different from my own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny is silent for many moments, body tense and fist flexing in thought. “How did you find it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We - as in you, Jessica, Luke, and I - went on a mission. In our world, the Hand has been destroyed but there’s small fractions that pop up every once and a while trying to revive it. One such fraction was after an ancient artifact called the Fist’s Ring, or the Desired Ring I think. You explained that it’s been lost for centuries and that only the Iron Fist was meant to wear it - ,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you thought you should wear it?” Danny huffs. “You guys never listen to me. Where was I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were knocked out and Luke was taking you to Claire’s to get patched up and Jessica - I don’t know, I just volunteered. I kinda owe you guys after - well, stuff happened and I volunteered to take the burden of watching this ring, then I decided wearing it might be safer for the ring. I would probably be able to handle the Hand better anyway were they to come after it, no offense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somehow, I’m still offended,” Danny says dryly. “Well, okay. That explains why you’re wearing the damn thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I can’t get it off,” Matt reiterates. “It’s been stuck since I put it on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, let’s start here: what does it do? Why does the Hand want the ring so bad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said it granted wishes, or - no. It showed you wishes? You didn’t explain very well,” Matt hadn’t understood the explanation all that well, and neither had Luke or Jessica. They just rolled with it because the Ring was, in reality, a simple thing. Unremarkable, Matt knew even without seeing it. It was made of steel and had no discernible patterns or decorations. It was smooth the whole way round.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grants wishes,” Danny muses. “That’s an awfully powerful thing to lose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never heard of it?” Kirsten asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fabric of Danny’s clothing shifts and the image of him in Matt’s head shifts with it. A shrug. “Never. But I can try taking it off. If only the Iron Fist can wear it then surely I can remove it, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Worth a shot,” Kirsten mutters, sounding doubtful, but all the hope Matt thought he lost is suddenly alive again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s try it,” Matt says and forces himself to sit down. He almost chokes on the hope, the anticipation, feels his heart beat painfully against his rib cage as Danny’s fingers close around the steel and - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ring doesn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Matt yanks his hand out of Danny's grasp. “Fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Matt,” Danny says. Matt barely hears him. “Look. If it grants wishes, maybe it’s been granting yours. I mean, you seeing? Your dad alive? That sounds like things you would want, Matt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kirsten,” Matt snaps. He’s standing again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But maybe you wanted companionship and the ring granted it the best it could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By sending me to a whole other world?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny stands up too and he’s tense, and warmth builds up around him like an aura of anger. “Matt - ,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Matt can barely hear him over the rushing blood in his ears, the disappointed beat in his heart, and the terrible ache that envelopes him because that - that was his last hope. Who else could help him if Danny himself can’t?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt - Matty.” Kirsten reaches out for him but Matt dodges her hand. He reaches for something, ends up with the mug Kirsten had filled for him and throws it. Hot tea splatters on him and the kitchen floor, and the mug’s shattered shards slide across Kirsten’s flooring, the sound slicing through his mind and only furthering his fury, and he can’t stop the shout that builds up in his throat, threatening to choke him if he doesn’t let it out. He wants to throw something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt!” Danny grabs both of Matt’s arms. “Man, you gotta - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt snarls and that’s all he intends to do. His energy is draining rapidly and in its place, hopelessness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Danny reaches for his temples, each hand for each side, and beyond the two of them he can hear Kirsten let out a sound of alarm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Danny, wait - !“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world goes silent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Karen sighs. She's shredding papers and Matt stands feet away from her, listening to the papers tear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're not listening," she says. "You make this very difficult."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then Matt wakes up in his apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s on the couch. He must have been for hours with the way his body aches when he sits up. It’s his same apartment and it’s warm. Too warm. The heater hums loudly and when Matt allows his senses to extend beyond the room Matt can smell the sharp sting of cold, winter air. The radio is on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holly, Jolly Christmas.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snow falls outside. A cup of eggnog sits on his coffee table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay, Matty?” Foggy asks from the kitchen. Matt hadn’t noticed him but now that he knows, he can also smell Karen’s lavender body wash intertwined with Foggy’s Old Spice deodorant. And drowning those scents is the smell of cinnamon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw Mrs. Cardenas today!” Karen is saying. She’s covered in flour and reeks of lard. Matt can hear her muscles strain as she works the dough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? When?” Karen shoos Foggy away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I went to the office today.” She grunts in effort. “I, uh - well, you remember last year. I wanted to get the food so we could actually eat it. I felt bad when Mrs. Carabajal’s ham went bad. And Elena was there - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that where the casserole came from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s from Mr. Castle - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From his wife.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Karen laughs. “Francis can cook too!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll believe it when I see it. And you better make sure he doesn’t hear you call him that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s he gonna do, fight me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He might!” Foggy settles for checking the ham when Karen still doesn’t let him help. The smell of ham wafers through the air and to Matt, it's a thick fog of warmth. It's a presence he no longer knows. It's heavy hands and reading braille words until his fingers are numb and a chilly gym and cheers through a television set. Matt can smell the familiar combination of scents - mustard, honey, brown sugar. The glaze is a little heavier than he prefers it but Matt can still smell his father's sweat and aftershave and blood mingled in as if he's here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Matt,” Karen calls. “You’re awake - good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally,” Foggy mumbles but his heart spikes, body tense with excitement. Louder, he continues. “You have got to feel what Mrs. Castle got for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please wash your hands before, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy closes the oven, apparently unsatisfied with the ham. Matt hears the sound of glass hitting the counter and tin foil being unraveled, then the green bean casserole makes itself known.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm, that smells good,” Karen sniffs the air. “Better than Fran’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, definitely don’t say that in front of Fran. I like Matt’s apartment. And I’m sure Matt likes it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Matt decides to join in. Might as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy rolls his eyes, Matt is almost sure of it, but his senses are muffled right now. Not absent completely but just quiet. He can’t pinpoint finer details but can still pick apart the senses, from mixing smells to faint noises.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Karen beats the dough and Foggy tries to make room in the fridge. In the corner of the living room, Matt picks up pine. A real tree. It’s pretty small and needles are already scattered all across the floor, as is tinsel and stale popcorn. Matt gets up, steps carefully around needles. He crushes a popcorn kernel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tree’s almost bare besides the popcorn string and tinsel but when Matt runs his fingers over the tree, through the needles and over the warming lights he’s just realized are there, his hand finds a bulb. It’s smooth all around. Another just below it has some sort of decoration. He follows lines and bumps with his fingers. He remembers this one. He thought he lost it after the move to the orphanage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To Daddy, From Matty.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The letters are barely there now. It’s mostly adhesive at this point but Matt continues to run his thumb over it. Where has it been this whole time, Matt wonders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are more bulbs on the tree, most smooth and lacking any patterns, but there are others that must be new that are decorated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Matt’s bulb.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt snorts at the loose braille. Right next to that one is Karen’s bulb. Then Foggy’s right above that one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt!” Foggy shouts. Matt tenses purely on instinct. “Your mom!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maggie walks in, food balanced in her arms precariously. She brings it to the kitchen - where she hugs Foggy and Karen like she’s known them for years - and Foggy begins the daunting task of fitting even more food in the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maggie makes her way to the tree where Matt still stands and without any sort of hesitation, she hugs him. No discomfort, no stiffness. Not from her at least, but Matt tenses all the same. She lets go quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is your shoulder still bothering you?” she asks and Matt doesn’t know how to say he doesn’t know her, this version of her, and that he hasn’t hugged her once since he’s met her, even after getting to know her properly. That this is the first hug he’s had from his mother and it’s with a strange version he doesn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he doesn’t. He nods even though he feels no sharpness in either shoulder and Maggie takes his word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The heater kicks up a notch and the snow worsens. Matt is corralled into helping with dinner. He keeps careful watch of the ham and bread, and then cookies when Karen needs a break. It lasts hours, the feeling of peace and calmness, and Matt can’t find it within himself to make himself leave, or to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to leave. He thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe I should sleep now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But then Maggie asks for help or Karen starts to sing along to the Christmas music still playing and Foggy makes him sing along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he does. He helps and he sings and dances and he sneaks a cornbread square, breaking it into even pieces when Foggy begs for some even though the pan is mere inches from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, no one eat these,” Magie says and labels the container. “These are for Paul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure Father Lantom wouldn’t mind if I had some,” Foggy says. They laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he falls asleep - and he does, eventually, because this world is not Matt’s and he’d like this Matt, their real Matt, to spend time with them because the version that Matt is doesn’t deserve this - Matt thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt sits on his dorm bed. Foggy rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't listen. I'll make you listen."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You will listen. You will understand.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next world starts with Matt on the couch. A livestream is playing on his laptop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“ - Fisk has been apprehended, according to the police chief - “</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s the sound of muffled sirens behind the news anchor. The audio from the stream prevents him from hearing anymore beyond that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The news anchor continues. “Vanessa Fisk has also been arrested in connection - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The audio buffers before loading. “ - thanks to Daredevil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It buffers again. “ - couldn’t have done it without Nelson and Murdock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again. “- Ben Ulrich published the story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ - and many others like Elena Cardenas had gone through something similar. In an interview, she was able to recount the events - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The news anchor ends the segment with one last statement. “With Wilson Fisk in prison, Hell’s Kitchen has become that much safer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wants this. He wants this so bad it aches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unwillingly he’s taken from the couch. He wakes up in a bed and feels the difference of this world immediately.  The bed stretches on further than it should and the room is tall. His bedroom door is open and he can make out the sense of the doorway and how it towers over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s younger, Matt figures out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets up. His senses are stronger but navigating is still hard. He kicks something and almost bumps into the wall. He doesn’t know where his cane is, if it’s even in the room, but he makes it to the kitchen well enough. It’s been years since he’s wondered this apartment but the layout is almost burned into his memory. Somehow it’s just there, even after all tis time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His father is drinking on the couch. He smells the sharp scotch and hears the fuzzy sounds from the television. The static is almost louder than the actual audio. Jack huffs at something said and takes a slug right from the bottle. He doesn’t have this exact memory but this sense of familiarity is threatening to overtake him. Tears well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Jack must hear him, somehow. Even though Matt is completely silent and any noise he could have made drowned by the loud cheers of the baseball game but he turns and doesn’t waste time to get to Matt’s side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, kiddo,” Jack kneels down in front of Matt and grabs his face, wipes the tears gently. “What’re you doin’ up so late, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt hugs his father and Jack hugs him back, tightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bad dream?” Matt nods. Jack sighs and rubs his back. “C’mon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit on the couch and Matt slumps into Jack’s arms. The noise from the TV are background noise and they get harder and harder to focus on despite the blaring volume he hears it as and Jack lets him lean into him, heavier and heavier still. Matt inhales the smell of his father and exhales it reluctantly. He burrows deeper into his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt hadn’t wanted to leave but he finds himself in his old university dorm anyway. Foggy is in his own bed and Jack is gone again, and Matt sighs without meaning to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, did I wake you?” Foggy whispers, as if that’ll make it better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Matt mutters and does his best impression of a human burrito. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got an email from the school. They said the heaters will be fixed by the weekend,” Foggy says at normal volume. That explains the cold, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t remember the heaters ever breaking at Columbia but remembers, vividly, the cold days of Manhattan. He remembers walking out into the snow with Foggy at his side. He remembers the way they would huddle together against wind or heavy snow and remembers Foggy’s cold hands grabbing his neck or reaching under shirt before Matt could get away and rubbing his freezing palms up and down Matt’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Foggy says. “I’m coming over there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask, he just does. Matt scoots over and Foggy slips under the blanket with Matt then drapes his over them too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Warmth comes easier now. It’s easy to fall asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wakes up in a cab, leaning heavily on Foggy. He’s drunk. They both are, but Matt moreso. He can barely move. The walk into the apartment will be hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, bud,” Foggy says softly. He runs a hand through Matt’s hair. “You feeling any better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt tries to reply - he really does. All he gets out is a half-formed ‘yeah’ that starts out strong but devolves into a groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I figured,” says Foggy, like he understood whatever Matt was trying to convey. At least one of them does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt knows he won’t last long in this world, can already feel the pull of sleep, but he wants to know what makes this world what it is - why Matt is seeing it. It takes a couple tries for the words to come out right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. Wha - what izzit?” Matt manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy doesn’t answer right away so Matt clarifies. “In thi - this one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one? Oh, the Uber? Are you asking where we’re going?” Foggy tries to look at Matt’s face. “We’re on our way to your place where I will proceed to babysit you because you, apparently, really don’t handle breakups well at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt hums. An Uber - he’s never taken an Uber before. “Ubber.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, buddy, an Ubber,” Matt doesn’t know why Foggy is laughing. “Aw, I’m sorry, Matty. I’m not making fun of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t reply. Just lets his eyes fall shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You fell asleep again, didn’t you?” Foggy sighs. “Well, good. Sweet dreams, Matt.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sleep takes hold. The world begins to fade, a new one just forming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserve better, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wakes up crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This world comes, and then goes. He spends time with a foster family. A woman he remembers meeting when he was younger and just orphaned. She was a counselor and Matt had liked her for that brief time he was able to function after his father’s death. She was kind and had apparently wanted to take care of him. Or at least, this version had. And she does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wakes up a teenager and she makes him breakfast and drives him to school and hugs him and ruffles his hair, and Matt only pretends to dislike that to keep up appearances. It’s been a while since he’d thought of her. He’d known her so briefly. He wonders why she didn’t adopt him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when the ring decides that’s enough of that, he’s taken back to Columbia. He has a different roommate but he still knows Foggy. He knows him quite well, in fact. He wakes up on movie night with his head in Foggy’s lap and with his hand combing through Matt’s messy bedhead gently. Matt is forced back to his own dorm by Foggy who knows he has class in the mornings and doesn’t want him up too late. Matt is reluctant to leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His roommate doesn’t care. He’s talking on the phone to someone and ignores Matt when he comes in and flops onto his covers, and Matt misses Foggy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Father Lantom and lattes. Candles are lit and the coffee is warm. Matt had fallen asleep in the church after a rough night. He has bandages and the faint smell of Claire - rose lotion and plain, cheap deodorant - still lingers in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty good for a ‘piece of junk’, wouldn’t you say?” Lantom says when Matt takes another sip of the coffee, still examining the area. It sounds like something this Lantom and Matt bicker about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt just hums but he doesn’t have to fake the smile too hard. He falls asleep after the coffee is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wakes up in a hospital bed with Jack and Maggie at his sides. The bandages feel tight around his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wakes up and Maggie is with him, leading him out of the taxi and towards the smell of freshly dug dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Karen leads him down the sidewalk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessica Jones isn’t fond of Matt, even in this universe, but she hands him the bottle and Matt chugs it and she allows it. Claire holds him. Foggy pats his shoulder, then pulls him in for a hug. Luke stands back, waits because Matt told him to and he trusts Matt and Matt trusts him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I get it,” Matt says as Danny tries to teach him a move because he’s worried Matt can’t handle himself against magic ninjas. “I get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not talking to Danny. He’s talking to the universe, to the ring, to God if he’s listening. He waits for an answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Danny says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt thanks Danny, and the ring doesn’t even wait for him to fall asleep. One minute he’s standing in front of Danny, the next he’s with Stick. They’re crouched on the roof and Matt doesn’t know what they’re waiting for but Stick is tense, ready to move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You helped me a lot when I was younger,” Matt says. Stick tilts his head. “But you hurt me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stick nods, then pounces off the edge and Matt doesn’t follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack holds Matt’s hands tightly. Matt squeezes back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t my fault,” Matt says and Jack nods, stands, and leaves Matt on the hospital bed. Matt isn’t scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maggie hands him a mug of tea, and Matt thanks her, then says, “You tried. You really did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire cleans his bloody wound, wipes the blood and dirt off his chest, and she carefully stitches the skin back together. It stings but Matt can handle it. “I tried,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did,” Matt agrees. “I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Claire says and gently pats the gauze. “You did. And you did well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have you learned?” Elektra asks, running a hand down his chest. Matt stops her hand from reaching any further down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That you’re determined,” Matt says, and Elektra laughs and doesn’t press it. She keeps her hand interlocked with Matt’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you feel, kid?” Jack pauses in the middle of the ring and waits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” a younger Matt asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you understand?” Karen asks and hands him a braille copy of some paperwork. Matt doesn’t read it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you ready to go, then?” Foggy asks. He’s by Matt’s front door and he’s just standing there. He waits for an answer. Matt rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I am,” and he gets up and Foggy laughs and opens the door for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt wakes up in his bed and takes off the ring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His apartment is empty. His suit is right where he left all those nights ago. Last night. Matt should call Danny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if on queue, his phone rings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Danny. Danny. Danny.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” Matt answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Matt, you have the ring, right?” Danny sounds panicked. “Wow, I didn’t think that guy was so strong. Sorry, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Matt says. “I’m fine. No one came after it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well - good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s ruffling on the other side of the call, then a muffled voice. “Yeah,” Danny replies to the other person. “Okay. Hey, Luke wants to know if you wanna go out with us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt almost says no, but figures he didn’t go through whatever that was just to avoid his friends and family again. “Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh - cool!” Danny makes a valiant effort to not sound surprised. “Awesome! Okay, I’ll - meet up with you now, then? For the ring and then once I figure out what to do with it, I’ll call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They agree to meet up in an hour at Luke’s since that’s where Danny stayed the whole night and Claire wants to make sure he isn’t dying. Then Danny grills Matt about the ring some more until he’s sure Matt isn’t lying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They really didn’t come after you?” Danny says again. “Guess the universe was on our side this time, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suspect it was,” Matt says. “I suspect it is.”</span>
</p>
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